


The Winds of Home

by aurora_always



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:30:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_always/pseuds/aurora_always
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon and Sansa's feelings throughout and after 6x04, with some additional romance. </p>
<p>R+L=J</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winds of Home

The biting wind and the numbness it wrought felt comforting to Sansa. The cold, northern gusts felt like they were on her side. She had never before seen the Wall, although, as a child of Ned Stark she had always felt a connection to it, a responsibility for it. It was more shocking than she had ever imagined. It stretched up to the sky, as if in contest with the greatness of heaven. In all honesty, she hadn’t spent that much time imagining it. More of her girlhood had been spent dreaming of the Southern world she had already left. The Red Keep of King’s Landing had been transformed by her experience from a place of wonders to hell on earth. She hoped the Wall would not also transform before her eyes. But, she wasn’t the girl she once was. And she kept telling herself that. Despite all the horrors she had been through, thoughts of her former self tortured her as much as thoughts of Ramsay. She had been mean to Jon, and she had thought herself better than him. Now she would beg for his help, and she was sure he would give it. They had been raised by the same man, and he had passed the same code of honor down to them. Jon Snow would open his arms and his gates to his sister. As she thought it they creaked, loudly and defiantly. She heard men yelling and laughing and wondering aloud on the other side. She wanted to throw herself inside, inside and away from Ramsay, but she steeled herself. She sat tall on her horse, and entered Castle Black as a true lady. She was determined that all would see her as that way, she was determined that Ramsay’s touch would not shame her. She would will the marriage into non-existence. She felt many eyes on her. They were hungry, curious and kind all at once. She didn’t know if any were his. She demounted, refusing help from Brienne. Her eyes found the icy ground. She breathed deeply, steadying herself for the questions to come. 

He had heard the gates opening. They were old and loud. Their creaks muffled the shouts of the men. He opened the door to see a woman in his courtyard. Two actually. But only one really caught his eye. Her back was to him, and a long flaming braid went down the center of it. She was beautiful, he knew without seeing her face, just from the way she carried herself. Something in his stomach told him she was here for him. When she turned he was down the steps in an instant. It was Sansa. She was a woman now, yet one so clearly marked by war. It had made her resolute and unflinching. It had torn her girlhood from her. 

Sansa turned at the noise of a door opening above her. Her heart recognized the man before her head did. It was Jon. But only a ghost of the boy she knew remained. Her heart broke at the sight of him. His eyes looked old and weary, they had little of the determination she remembered. They looked like her father’s eyes after he agreed to be Robert’s Hand. He walked towards her and then stopped, as if unsure, as if she might be a mirage, or a source of newfound pain. She bridged their gap in response. She threw her arms around him. She murmured “Jon…” in his ear. She could feel the strength of his muscles under his cloaks. She didn’t remember them. She didn’t remember is she had ever hugged him before. He smelled like smoke, sweat, and fresh air. She breathed him in. 

When she fell towards him his body responded to hers. He immediately felt like she was his. His to protect. She was a full head taller than when he had last seen her. His arms were tight around a waist that had not been nearly so defined. Her cheek felt so soft against his own. She said his name and he said “Yes…” back to her. It felt foolish but it was almost as if he was unsure after all he had been through, as if she was telling him who he was. 

That night they spoke of home and of war. They told each other how everything had changed, and of the few happy memories they shared. Together they remembered Rickon as a baby, of the day they found their direwolves, the sounds of summer streams, and they way their father used to laugh. Jon didn’t tell her that her hair reminded him of his lost love, or that when she laughed her eyes sparkled, or that the memories she spoke of made him feel like he was about to weep. He didn’t doubt that she could tell, though. She seemed to be pressing him towards them. Pressing him to remember how much he had loved Winterfell. She wanted him to take it back with her. She wanted him to go to war. But deeper than that, Jon could see, she wanted to not be afraid. 

As Jon undressed he remembered the feel of her hand on his. He hadn’t seen a woman in a long time. He hadn’t seen a member of his family in longer. He got into bed and closed his eyes against his thoughts. They were poor gates, and the thoughts came through anyway, rushing against his eyelids like a torrential river. Sansa was here. The sister whom had never really been a sister. He was older now, but something about being near her still made him feel like he had to prove himself as a Stark. She had never accepted him as her brother, as her father’s son. He remembered his childish fantasies of being legitimized, becoming a knight, marrying a lady. Sansa and her mother both warming, both realizing how deserving he was. Those thoughts seemed so far away after years on the Wall. Tenderness seemed so far away. In all of his childish dreams he never would have thought he would earn Sansa’s respect here, after she had fled a war he hadn’t known. He had seen others, of course, he had seen horrors she still couldn’t imagine. It had been easy to tell her, though, about some things… He told her about his men, about the Red Woman. She needed to know she wasn’t as safe here as she might have thought.


End file.
